Roses and Thorns
by bonnyblonde
Summary: Twenty years into the future, and Daryl and Carol find themselves facing a situation that's both reminiscent of their own past and a potentially frightening new reality. Much angst, much love, and of course there will be smut. A Caryl story, but with guest appearances by a cast of familiar characters.
1. Chapter 1

_My lovely muse/Twitter wife Jennifer wanted a story about a Caryl baby. Being the Queen of Angst, however, it's in my nature to turn such a happy premise into a work of conflict & heartbreak before we reach the end of the journey. This first chapter is short but I promise, there's more to come!_

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**Chapter 1**

"Mama! Please... help!"

The desperate note of panic in Cherie's voice caused Carol to instantly abandon the laundry she was folding and grab her pistol from the bedside table. It didn't matter that her daughter was nineteen years old; the same protective instincts were roused as when Cherie had been only a toddler. Carol raced from the bedroom and down the stairs to see the young woman clutching her blouse against her otherwise bare chest, her eyes wide with fear.

"What's happening? Are you okay?"Carol grabbed Cherie's arm, her eyes automatically scanning the girl's skin for bite marks or scratches. It had been months since the last time the walkers had breached the perimeter of the tiny town they called home, but fear of an attack was never far from Carol's mind.

"It's Daddy...he's gone crazy! He's going to kill Jason! Please! Please come!" Cherie pleaded, tears spilling down her freckled cheeks as she tugged at her mother's hand and led her out the front door.

"Jason?" Carol said, frowning in confusion as she allowed Cherie to drag her towards what had once been St. Gabriel's town hall. "Why would Daddy want to hurt Jason?"

Cherie dropped her gaze as her face turned bright red and then Carol knew. What had long seemed a brother/sister relationship between her daughter and Glenn and Maggie's son, only a year older than Cherie, had clearly turned into something very different. And apparently, Daryl had been the one to discover it. "He walked in on us, doing...well, you know," Cherie confessed contritely, tugging on her blouse and haphazardly buttoning it up as they ran. "He...he just freaked out! I tried to stop him but..."

Carol sighed and ran faster. Of course Daryl would lose his mind to see his daughter – his precious little Cherokee Rose– in flagrante delicto, as it were. In Daryl's mind, Cherie was still the curly-haired tot whose pale blue eyes shone only for her daddy. And for a man to lay a hand on her, even one whom Daryl had seen grow from baby to adulthood, would have sent him over the edge.

"Get out here and face me like you actually own a set, you fuckin' pervert!

Hearing Daryl's bellow from the second story window, Carol shouldered open the door and took the stairs two at a time. Pretty good for a woman in her early 60's, she thought vaguely to herself as she reached the landing with Cherie fast on her heels. Allowing herself to get out of shape wasn't an option, though, not when so many lives depended on her quickness and stealth. She and Daryl were responsible for organizing all the reconnaissance and supply recovery, and their dwindling group relied heavily on the couple for their continued survival.

As she followed the sound of shouting down the hallway and rounded the corner, Carol staggered to a halt. Jason had barricaded himself behind the Plexiglas service window that had so long been a barrier between the municipality's bureaucrats and the citizens of St. Gabriel, Louisiana. The poor guy was clutching his pants protectively to his groin, completely naked as he held his hand out towards Daryl in an attempt to ward him off as the older man tried to batter down the glass with a plastic chair. The reddish swelling that had started under one of Jason's eyes was a sign that Daryl had got in at least one punch before the kid had been able to scramble away to safety. "Uncle Daryl! Please," Jason begged, his voice shaking slightly, "don't be angry..."

"Don't you '_Uncle Daryl'_ me, you piece of shit dirt bag!" Daryl hollered, pounding ineffectually against the thick acrylic pane. "Who the fuck you think you are, taking advantage of a young girl like that?! I'm gonna tear that stumpy dick of yours right off and shove it up your ass! You were like _family_, for Chrissakes! "

"Daddy! Please!" Cherie screamed, throwing herself between her enraged father and the window. "Jason didn't do anything wrong!"

Daryl bristled as she attempted to calm him down by placing a hand against his broad chest. "I saw what I saw, kiddo," he seethed, his teeth bared. "What he was doing...you were both doing...it was just...just_..._."

"Daryl," Carol said quietly. "You need to come with me, okay? We have to talk this through before you do something that can't be undone."

She hadn't seen Daryl so close to losing control for many, many years – in fact, his reaction was so similar to the way he'd reacted when he was grieving Sophia's death that she felt a chill skitter over her skin. That moment, that night, he'd been in such pain that he'd almost given in to a physical urge to strike her. If he didn't rein in his emotions soon, Jason might actually get hurt, and there'd be no coming back from that within their tiny, close-knit community.

His head turned towards her ever so slightly at the sound of her voice, 'though he steadfastly avoided eye contact. "Carol...I can't...he was...with Cherie," he hissed, and she could feel the sorrow that filled each stammered word all the way to her heart.

She approached Daryl slowly and soothingly stroked the long, greying ponytail that lay against his back. The muscles in his arms twitched and his fists relaxed slightly under her touch, but she could still feel the dangerous tension radiating off of his entire body, "Babe, you have to settle down. This isn't going to solve anything. Come home with us and we'll get this sorted out. It's going to be alright, I promise."

"I want to stay with Jason..." Cherie started to protest petulantly, but Carol gave her a level look that her daughter quickly understood was an indication that her mother wasn't about to take any back talk. The girl sighed in resignation, giving Jason one last longing look as she reluctantly shuffled after her parents.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks much for the reviews, Caryl fans! Just getting rolling on this story so get ready, the time machine is headed for the past - on our way back to Terminus! All abooooooard!_

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**Chapter 2**

_Twenty years earlier..._

Carol had been sure – _so_ sure – when she didn't get her period a few months earlier that she'd finally reached what her mother had delicately referred to as 'The Change.' Part of her had been relieved because it would certainly simplify many aspects of her life. No more worrying about being caught out on patrol at an inopportune moment and risk having walkers catch the scent of her menses...no more bloody rags to launder...no more stressing over the procurement and use of condoms when Daryl was in the mood for some loving. Yes, there was a touch of sadness that accompanied it, too, because she was moving into a different stage of her life, but she'd accepted it as the natural order of things. As time passed, however, and it became impossible to deny the tenderness of her breasts, the queasiness she experienced when cooking and the slight hardness of her abdomen, Carol had pilfered one of the pregnancy tests that Maggie had stashed in her room and crept off to the latrine to pee on a stick.

Now here she was, sitting on the lid of the toilet and watching as one pink line appeared, quickly followed by a second, slightly paler one. The test was positive. Never before had pink seemed like such a foreboding colour.

Her heart thudded against her ribs as icy dread took hold. It was the worst possible time, the worst possible development. Maggie had given birth a few months earlier, and with Judith only a couple of years old, the threat to the group had already grown exponentially. Children made them vulnerable, risking everyone's well-being simply by existing. Yes, it was a cold and calculating way to look at it, but a sudden cry could alert a herd instantly and put everyone's lives in danger. The group was always on the run, always trying to find the next safe place to hunker down for a while before moving on again. A baby complicated things, made it less possible to adapt to changing circumstances and put incredible pressure on everyone to find the necessary supplies.

Apart from her concern over her friends, however, was the very real possibility that Carol wouldn't survive the delivery of a second child. Sophia's had been a difficult birth that had required a great deal of medical intervention and a prolonged hospital stay for both mother and baby. She'd been warned about another pregnancy, had even been strongly advised by her doctors to consider tubal ligation so she wouldn't have to face the most dire of consequences should she conceive again. And now here she was, in her mid-forties, and far beyond whatever meager expertise Bob could offer her as a former medic. Her prospects were grim no matter how you looked at it.

She didn't want to die and didn't want to see anyone else she cared about die. Part of her felt like she had just started living, despite the horrific realities they had to face day in and day out. When she and Daryl had reunited a few months earlier following the fall of Terminus, he'd finally confessed his true feelings for her, had at long last broken through the emotional walls that had kept them at arm's length for so long. She finally had him, could truly call Daryl _hers_, and now she'd put both their fledgling relationship and their very lives in jeopardy.

Carol wrapped the test stick in toilet paper and lifting the lid, tossed it deep down into the hole so nobody could stumble across it and start speculating about who might possibly be knocked up. The door squealed loudly and then slammed shut behind her as she all but flung herself outside, her breathing getting faster and shallower as panic set in. She needed to do something…needed to think the whole thing through…figure out what she was going to do, and whether she was even going to tell Daryl or just try to end the pregnancy on her own.

Her heart clenched painfully at the thought as she hoisted the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and continued on her rounds. A part of her and Daryl's love was growing inside of her, and in other circumstances it would be a joyful moment for any couple. But there was no room for illusions in the world they inhabited, and she refused to allow herself to go down the road of 'what if.'

Unconsciously, her hand drifted down to her flat belly and curled there in a protective gesture. Once Carol realized what she was doing, a choking cry bubbled up from her throat and before she knew it, she was sobbing. She stumbled over to an old tree and slumped against it, angrily brushing away her tears even as more fell to replace them.

"Carol? Are you okay?"

Carol sucked in a startled breath and quickly turned away from Tara and Carl, who were standing just down the hill from her. The two were armed and clearly ready to relieve her of duty. Hastily trying to scrub away the evidence of her melt-down with her palms, Carol cleared her throat and said, "I'm fine…I'm fine, really. I managed to catch my foot in a pocket gopher burrow and twist my ankle a bit, nothing serious. I don't know why I'm being such a wimp about it."

When she finally regained control and whirled around to face them, smiling with a happiness that she definitely didn't feel, Tara and Carl looked at one another dubiously. "Carl, how 'bout you go and ask Sasha to take my shift, and I'll help Carol back to her room so Bob can take a look at her foot?" Tara asked, already heading up the ridge to Carol.

After giving Carol what seemed to her to be a rather serious, penetrating assessment from beneath the brim of his father's hat, Carl nodded his head and strode back the way they'd come. "It's okay, Tara…honestly, I don't need help," Carol tried to persuade the younger woman. "You stick with Carl and I'll make my own way home."

Tara looked back over her shoulder, watching to be sure Carl was well out of earshot before she leveled a suspicious gaze at Carol. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible liar?" Tara asked, crossing her arms over her chest and arching her eyebrow.

Carol broke eye contact and took a few steps away. "I don't know what you're talking about. My ankle will be fine."

"Oh, I don't doubt that, especially since I'm pretty sure that wasn't the problem in the first place." Tara scanned the ground and then sat down in the shade, stretching her legs out on the grass and getting comfortable. "I admit that I don't know you very well yet, Carol, but you don't strike me as the sort who would be reduced to tears over an 'owie.' I saw what you did when you helped us retake Terminus, how cool and level-headed you were during the chaos; whatever has you shaken up has to be pretty bad if you're reacting the way you are." Tara glanced up and smiled sympathetically. "You don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want, but I wanted to at least give you a chance to talk if you think that might help."

A hard, painful lump formed in Carol's throat and tears rimmed her eyes again. "There's nothing you or anyone else can do to fix it," she sighed tremulously as she took a place beside Tara on the hill. She drew up her legs up, wrapping her arms around her calves and resting her chin on her knees. "I just have to figure out how to deal with it on my own."

Tara nodded sagely, staring into the distance towards the old train yard. "I understand. Some problems are like that, or at least they seem that way at first. I have a secret of my own but when I shared it with one other person, it felt like part of the weight got lifted off of my soul. And he was one of the people hurt…" she paused and swallowed hard, her own ordeal clearly a difficult one, "…hurt really badly by the poor choices I'd made, and he forgave me. All this to say: it doesn't have to be me but you should tell _someone_. People can surprise you – I for sure never expected the response I got."

Carol didn't really know what sort of dark secret Tara might be hiding, and she wasn't going to pry. Some things were better left unknown nowadays. Lost in her own thoughts, Carol gazed upwards at the cloudless blue sky, searching for some kind of divine sign that would lift the burden of choice from her heart. After a few minutes filled only with distant birdsong and the sleepy sound of insects buzzing, she knew in her heart what needed to happen. The path ahead wasn't one she could walk alone, and whatever painful decisions had to be made belonged to both her and Daryl. It was the very least she owed him.

"Thanks, Tara," she said gratefully, getting back to her feet and brushing some dried blades of grass that clung to her thighs. She sniffled and dabbed away the last of her tears from her cheeks. "You give pretty good advice."

Tara smiled shyly, squinting in the sunlight. "You gotta give a little back once in a while, you know? The way the world is now, I could use a little positive karma. I have a lot to make up for."

Carol adjusted the gun on her shoulder and nodded. "You're not alone there. We've all done things we've come to regret. You've saved me from making one more mistake today, though, so that certainly counts for something."

She had turned and made her way back down the hill, determined to find Daryl when Tara called her name again. Carol turned around, shielding her eyes with the flat of her hand as she peered back at the other woman.

"What?" Carol answered.

She could see the bright white of Tara's teasing grin even from beneath the shade of the oak. "Be sure to take it easy with that ankle, eh?"

Laughing softly, Carol resumed her trek back to Terminus. It was time to find Daryl and let him know about the secret she carried deep within her body.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for those who took the time to read the first two chapters. I must warn you that there are dark themes ahead, but I had to go there in order for Daryl's daughter to truly understand her father. I promise, smoother waters will follow but we must first endure some choppy seas._

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**Chapter 3**

When they got back to the house, Cherie scampered up the stairs to her room and Daryl stormed into the kitchen, leaving Carol standing at the front door alone. After a few moments of indecision, Carol went upstairs as well, deciding she'd better hear Cherie's story for herself before she even attempted to talk to her mate.

She rapped gently on Cherie's door with her knuckles and then walked in. Her daughter was standing at her window, her arms cinched angrily across her chest and her mouth turned down in a scowl that was one hundred per cent Dixon. She glanced at her mother, tilting her chin up defiantly as if daring Carol to start a fight. Refusing to get drawn in, Carol perched on the mattress and stayed silent. There was no use provoking Cherie; she would say her piece in her own good time.

"He's insane, you know!" Cherie finally blurted. "I'm completely humiliated! How am I ever going to look Jason in the eye again? Or anyone else, for that matter?" She chuffed indignantly, her lips thinning as she fought back angry tears.

"People will understand," Carol replied calmly. "They know how protective your father is – given our lives, the things that we've all gone through, can you blame him? Besides which, I think you bear at least some responsibility for what happened today. If you'd been up front with us about how your relationship with Jason had changed instead of sneaking around, Daddy would have gradually gotten used to the idea. As it was..."

Cherie stomped her heel on the floor and screamed. "As it was, Daddy took something incredibly private and turned it into this big fucking spectacle, and so now everyone and their dog knows what we were doing! I'm not a child, Mama – I haven't been for a long time. But the man can't seem to get it through his thick hillbilly skull..."

Carol gasped and flew off the edge of the bed, shaking an angry finger in her daughter's face and causing Cherie to take a startled step backwards. "Don't...you...DARE!" Carol growled. "I won't have you speak about your father like that, not now or ever! Everything he does comes from his love for you. _Everything_. The fact that you and I are even here today, yelling at each other...well, you have _him_ to thank for that, missy. You can be angry about how he reacted if you want, but I will NOT allow you to disrespect him that way again. Am I making myself clear?"

Where Daryl was vicious and vocal in a fight of any kind, Carol was almost always cool and controlled. The fact that she'd actually lost her temper with her daughter had shaken Cherie to her core, and her child stared back at her wide-eyed as though really seeing her mother for the first time. "Yes, Mama," she said meekly.

Carol turned and stalked across the room, her hand pressed to her forehead in an attempt to ease the tension headache that was already throbbing behind her eyes. "I know you're embarrassed about today and I'm sorry that it went the way it did, sweetheart. But you have to understand how much pain Daddy's had to suffer, how many people he's lost. The ones he has left – you and me – well, sometimes he holds onto us a little too tightly, but it's only because he's so afraid that something will happen and he'll be left alone with no one to love him back."

Cherie hung her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Everyone here has had someone die on them. You don't see _them_ going around threatening to castrate people or trying to beat them to death with cheap plastic chairs," she said sullenly.

Along with her temper, Cherie had inherited her dry wit from her father, and Carol couldn't help but smile at the sardonic remark. She sat back down on the bed and patted the comforter beside her, waiting patiently until Cherie grudgingly sat down as well.

"You know a few things about our past, Cherie, like how your daddy's brother Merle died, and about how we lost your sister Sophia," Carol said, turning slightly sideways so she could take her daughter's hand in hers. "But there's a lot you _don't_ know, too – things that we've found too painful to think about ourselves, never mind discuss openly. Maybe if I tell you, you'll understand why Daddy is the way he is now..."

* * *

_Nineteen years earlier..._

Her lower back had been aching badly all day but when the first contraction hit just as the moon was rising, Carol was taken completely by surprise. Too soon, she thought, stopping to press her forehead against the cool concrete wall. It was far too soon! She was only at 36 weeks gestation; she knew that with absolute certainty, even if Bob had suggested she could be a little further along according to the measurements he'd been taking of her uterus. Maybe a month early wasn't a big deal when all the modern amenities were available, but that was most certainly not the case now.

The powerful cramp gradually passed and Carol moved as fast as she dared towards the outdoor common area, fear gripping her heart as it became clear that the big moment had arrived. The pregnancy had progressed without any issues that they knew of, but her prenatal care had been primitive at best. Unable to listen to the baby's heartbeat or view the tiny developing body through an ultrasound, Carol had taken her reassurances about the child's health by way of its feisty squirming, occasion hiccups and spirited kicks to her kidneys. As for her own health – well, she was tired, swollen and uncomfortable, pretty much as expected. But she hadn't run into trouble with Sophia until well into her delivery, so the spectre of those past horrors still loomed large in her mind.

"Daryl!" she cried out in alarm as she burst out through the doors, scanning the courtyard frantically. While she'd shared with him her misgivings about the wisdom of having another child for the group to care for and protect, she'd kept her frightening medical history to herself. She'd seen no good reason to worry him; he already hovered over her during almost every waking hour, making sure she had enough to eat, clean water to drink and was resting at every given opportunity. He would have gone out of his mind if he knew that there was a chance that she, the baby or both of them might not make it through the delivery alive. She needed him nearby now, though…needed him at her side in case the worst was to happen.

"Carol! Hey! What's goin' on?" Tyreese came lumbering towards her from the compound where he was on watch, concern clear on his broad, handsome features. Carol reached for him and all but fell into his embrace as another contraction hit, her fingernails sinking into his thick upper arms as the spasms spread across her abdomen. She rested her forehead against his chest and breathed through it as best she could, her knees wobbling more from anxiety than pain.

"It's started," she gasped. "The contractions have started!" And as though her body had heard her acknowledge the fact, her membranes ruptured and her legs were drenched in amniotic fluid. She stood shaking in a puddle of warm liquid, the remains of which dribbled down her thighs and trickled from her underwear.

"Sasha! Go grab Bob, get the delivery room ready! The baby's coming!" Ty hollered at his sister, his deep voice practically vibrating through Carol's skull as he held her gently.

"Ty, please! Find Daryl!" she begged breathlessly.

He bent over and scooped her up effortlessly into his arms, cradling her against him as he hustled back into the main warehouse and towards their makeshift infirmary. "Don't you worry none; he'll be there if I gotta hunt him down myself. Pretty sure he's with Abe, just fixin' fence over on the south side of the yard. Let's take care of you first, though."

Carol nodded, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes that had nothing to do with labour. She thought Ty's forgiveness for what had happened with Karen and David had been his greatest gift to her, but she'd been wrong. It had paled in comparison to the friendship he'd given her since then, the way he'd kept a close eye on her when Daryl couldn't be around. As much as she cared for him, though, it was the father of her baby that she wanted at her side now – the man she loved with her whole heart.

Sasha and Bob were waiting for her when Ty brought her in. He gently lowered her onto the hospital bed that had already been in residence when they'd overthrown the group at Terminus and tucked a pillow behind her back for support. The tightening of her stomach signalled the onset of another contraction and Carol grasped the railings on the bed tightly as she rode it out, perspiration coating her brow. "I'll go get that man of yours now," Tyreese vowed, patting the top of her hand comfortingly before he dashed out the door.

Bob stood to Carol's left, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm while Sasha took her other wrist to check her pulse. He grinned reassuringly as he pumped up the bulb to inflate the device. "How're we doing so far?"

"It's too early," she answered, her voice sounding far shakier than she would have liked. "It's not time yet!"

"You've passed the eight month mark, Carol, if your dates are correct. From the measurements, you could be even further along. The baby is a good size and is going thrive, even being born a few weeks early," he said calmly, watching the gauge as he released the air. "Your blood pressure is perfectly in range, so I don't think pre-eclampsia is a concern."

"Her pulse is a bit fast," Sasha commented quietly, taking Carol's fingers and squeezing them gently.

"It's just the adrenaline rush; everything is fine," Bob replied, moving to the end of the bed. He draped sheets over top of Carol's legs and settled his hands lightly on her ankles. "I'd like to check to see how far dilated you are; would that be okay?"

"Remind me again, you've delivered _how_ many babies?" she groaned, her head falling back on the pillow. She tried to rest, knew she needed to save her strength for whatever was awaiting her, but the panicked racing of her heart was difficult to ignore.

"I took the OBGYN training, same as all the other army medics," he said, keeping both his tone and his expression neutral, "but no, I was never actually called on to deliver a baby in the middle of a combat zone. I promise you, though, that I've done my research and I've got good instincts, and I'll do the very best I can. Sasha, can you please help Carol off with her clothes? I'm going to go wash my hands."

Waiting until Bob had turned his back to them, Sasha helped Carol sit up so she could pull the maternity dress off over her head, then moved to the foot of the bed so she could reach beneath the covers and remove Carol's underwear. Sasha smiled sympathetically at her and toweled off the thick fluid from Carol's legs as Bob lathered up his hands with antibiotic soap.

"You must be excited," Sasha said demurely, replacing the dampish sheets on Carol's legs with dry ones. "In the middle of all the death and chaos, you and Daryl are bringing something new and beautiful into the world."

Carol's bottom lip quivered as she met Sasha's kind gaze. "I'm scared. I can't even begin to tell you…" Her vision swam slightly and she blinked the tears away. "I had trouble the first time, I'm afraid it might be the same now as it was with Sophia."

"What kind of trouble?" Bob said, overhearing as he pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and returned to her bedside. Although he tried to hide it, she could see he was upset that she hadn't been forthright about her previous complications.

"It was placenta accrete – where the placenta doesn't detach from the uterus during childbirth. I almost bled to death in the middle of delivery; they had to use vacuum suction to get my baby out quickly and then rushed me to surg–." Her words were cut off when another painful contraction hit and she needed to breathe through the pain.

His eyes went wide with shock, and Sasha covered her mouth with her hand. "My God, Carol – I don't have the skills to deal with anything like that!" Bob blurted in angry disbelief. "Why didn't you say something before now?"

Waiting until the spasms stopped again, Carol gave a single sad laugh. "What would have been the point, Bob? I know what the result will be if it happens again. Your job is to look after the baby, make sure he or she is healthy. And then to deal with me so Daryl doesn't have to. It was enough that he had to put down his own brother; I won't have him doing the same for me. It would destroy him."

Bob shook his head as though trying to dispel the image altogether. "We're getting _way_ ahead of ourselves here. Have you even had any symptoms? Any bleeding or anything?" he asked anxiously, pushing her feet back on the mattress and waiting until she'd parted her knees before he lifted the sheets to peek beneath.

"No, but the bleeding didn't start before labour last time either. And early labour can be a symptom of the condition, too."

Bob seemed about to say something else but Daryl came rushing into the room, shrugging his crossbow off his shoulder and letting it clatter noisily to the floor. Carol gave Bob a warning look and shook her head, causing the medic to sigh heavily under the burden of the secret she'd just shared.

Daryl grabbed her hand, wrapping it both in his as he glanced anxiously between Bob and Sasha. "Is she okay?" He then seemed to forget about them entirely, turning all the intensity of his beautiful, entrancing blue eyes on Carol instead. "Are you? Okay, I mean? I'm sorry, I shoulda been with you…fuck, I _knew_ you weren't getting enough rest…"

"Shhh," Carol said with a tremulous voice, cupping his face and smiling in relief at having him close. "The baby coming early has nothing to do with any of that. It just happens sometimes. I haven't had any problems; Bob was just going to check to see if things are starting to open up down there."

As it occurred to Daryl that Bob was preparing to take a good, long look at Carol's private parts, he narrowed his eyes and fixed the other man with a glare that would had anyone else cowering and in fear for their lives. Bob simply chose to ignore him and pushed Carol's knees further apart so he could begin the examination.

Carol winced as she felt a stinging intrusion and then some slight pressure. Bob looked up at her from between her legs, his eyebrows arched in surprise. "You're already at eight centimetres! Damned good thing Tyreese got you in here so quickly, you might have ended up delivering in the compound! Christ, that was fast!"

"No time like the…" Carol arched her back and cried out sharply as the next contraction seized hold, this one longer and more agonizing than the previous ones had been. She squeezed Daryl's hand tightly, knowing it must be painful but helpless to stop herself anyway.

"What did you do?!" Daryl snarled, taking a threatening step forward. "Stop it! You're hurting her!"

Bob raised both hands into the air and stepped back. "It's not me, brother. It's labour. Her body's getting ready to push out the baby. You need to settle down and let everyone do their jobs, okay? You're not helping Carol or the baby by getting all bent out of shape."

"Daryl," she whispered as the pain gradually subsided, waiting until he'd shifted his attention back to her again. "Pookie, I need you to stay focused, alright? You have to stay strong, keep me on track and help me forget that there's anyone else here besides the two of us. Can you do that for me?"

Daryl's expression softened and he lifted her hand to his mouth, closing his eyes and brushing his lips across her knuckles. "I'm sorry – it's just so hard, knowin' you're in pain and not being able to do a fuckin' thing to stop it."

A single tear escaped her eye and meandered down her cheek, disappearing into her hair. Although her faith had certainly been shaken since the rise of the walkers, Carol sent up a silent prayer that God would save both her and their child's lives, if only to spare Daryl any more tragedy. "Kiss me. Be with me. Hold me and tell me that you love me. And don't stop until you've got our baby in your arms, okay?"

He bent over and kissed her tenderly, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. She shut her eyes and marveled how soft his lips were against hers, how he smelled like the forest and leather and pure masculinity, how one lingering kiss could speak to the depth of his love when he couldn't seem to find the words to do so. If something happened, if this was the last intimate moment they ever shared, she hoped that she would be allowed to carry this single memory with her into whatever sort of existence awaited her on the other side.

"I won't stop, not even then," he murmured against her mouth. "I promise."

* * *

"Another deep breath, Carol. Okay, push!" Bob urged, sweat beading on his forehead as he crouched at the foot of the bed.

Carol groaned deeply and bore down, supported from behind by Daryl. He'd crawled behind her into bed when the hard labour had started, cradling her against him and whispering words of encouragement and affection against her temple when she needed the extra strength to keep going. It had taken hours until she was fully dilated but she was starting to feel hopeful that she might make it through the delivery. The problems with Sophia had already begun to manifest themselves by this point.

"Just a little more, Carol! The head is crowning! I see blonde hair!" Sasha exclaimed excitedly. Her enthusiastic grin might have been contagious had Carol not been so physically drained.

She struggled to sit up further and Daryl leaned forward, propping her up with his chest and cupping her knees with his hands so she could push harder. Her groan turned into a cry of pain as her flesh was stretched so far it felt as though it was burning. Knowing the end was in sight, Carol drew on what few reserves of energy she had left and gave one last, long squeeze. The baby's head popped free and with a gentle tug on the shoulders, the slick little body followed quickly thereafter.

Sasha gave an excited squeal. "He's got her! It's a girl, Carol! You've got a daughter!"

As soon as she heard the baby sputter and then start to cry feebly, Carol collapsed back against Daryl, who was raining light kisses down on her head. "You done so good, sugar," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "Gave me a baby girl. Goddamn, I'm a daddy..."

Bob looked up wearily, a relieved smile gracing his face. "She's not very big but she's feisty. Not all that surprising, considering what kind of kick-ass parents she's got. You want to come and cut the umbilical cord, Dixon?"

Carol almost laughed at the snort of disgust she heard from behind her. "No thanks, dude. You go on ahead. I think I'm good where I am."

With a grin and a shrug, Bob clamped the cord and cut it. He stood and passed the baby to Carol, who took the tiny, wet creature and gathered her against her bare breast. Whether from exhaustion, relief or a surge of maternal hormones, Carol broke down crying as she fingered the baby's splotchy pink face. "Hullo, my little miracle," Carol sniffled, examining every inch of her daughter to make sure that everything was where it should be and that there weren't a disproportional number of fingers and toes.

Daryl's hand hovered just above their daughter's back. "Carol...she's...she's _furry_," he muttered quietly and then Carol did giggle, undone by the unexpected joy of the occasion.

"Lots of babies are born with those fine little hairs," she reassured him, taking his hand and pressing it against the baby's delicate, mottled skin. "They'll fall off in the next few weeks, I promise."

Just as the baby started rooting around, seeking out a nipple for some much-needed nourishment, pain wracked Carol again and she moaned pitifully. "What the hell?" Daryl barked, the loud noise startling the baby enough that she started wailing with a volume one wouldn't have thought possible of a being so small.

"Carol's delivering the afterbirth," Bob said casually, though his expression belied his real emotions. He and Carol made eye contact, both of them understanding that this was the moment of truth. If the placenta was too deeply embedded in the surrounding tissue, Carol would hemorrhage to death within minutes. "Daryl, I need you to undo your shirt and hold the baby against your chest; she needs to be skin-to-skin with a parent, it's important for bonding."

When Daryl did as he was asked, Bob wiped his brow with his sleeve and sat back on the stool. "Sasha, go warm up some water so we can get Carol and the baby cleaned up once this is done," he instructed stoically.

Carol took a bracing breath and pushed gently, the overworked muscles of her stomach protesting the exertion. She wanted to tell Daryl one more time how much she loved him, how incredibly blessed she was to have him in her life, but the superstitious part of her wouldn't allow it. If she said goodbye, even hinted at it, maybe it would somehow hasten the inevitable, and she wanted every second she could share with her love and their child.

"Whoa...whoa! Stop! Don't push!" Bob commanded. "Oh my God!"

"What? What's wrong?" Daryl asked, his body tensing against Carol's.

"It's not...it's not the placenta," the medic answered, getting to his feet and reaching for a clean pair of gloves. His hands shook slightly as he tugged them on and Carol understood with awful clarity that whatever was happening, it was something terrible. Maybe her uterus had prolapsed altogether? It should still be too engorged for something like that, shouldn't it? Or were there streams of blood gushing from within her? She couldn't imagine what could be so wrong that it would shake Bob that badly.

"Then what?" Daryl demanded, bewildered at Bob's sudden sombre tone.

"It's a...Daryl, it's a little foot," Bob revealed hesitantly. "There's another baby."

Sasha came rushing over from where she was warming a pot of water on the hotplate. "Twins! Oh, that's wonderful...you're so..."

Whatever Sasha saw robbed her of any further words, but it was crystal clear that it wasn't excitement that left her speechless. When the young woman's eyes filled with tears, Carol knew that the arrival of this next child would not bring anything but grief and heartache. She could almost feel her heart cracking in her chest, the sorrow of this loss bringing back every fibre of the horrifying pain she'd experienced with Sophia's death.

"Carol, this is going to hurt – I'm so sorry, but I have to reach in and pull the limbs free. It's a breech presentation," Bob muttered, looking at her with helpless despair. "Push when I tell you to, okay?"

Tears began to spill down her cheeks but she nodded, knowing that the baby had to be delivered regardless. She trembled at the pain of Bob's fingers being forced in between the baby's body and her battered flesh but she didn't allow herself to cry out as she had the first time. The agony was so acute for a moment that black dots swam before her eyes and her head went light, but she clung to consciousness anyway. Witnessing the birth was the least she could do for this little one...the _last_ thing she'd be able to do for her third child.

At last the pain abated and with a nod from Bob, she bore down again and choked on her tears when she felt the cool, lifeless body flop against her thigh. Bob pressed down on her sternum and with one last push, the baby's head came out. Born still but still born.

"What...what is it?" she rasped, reaching her arms forward. Maybe Bob was wrong, maybe the baby could be revived, it just needed to be held by someone who loved it...

"It's a boy," Bob pronounced miserably. "He must have died earlier in the day; that's what triggered your early labour." He took the towel that Sasha sadly offered him and after cutting the cord, he wrapped the tiny body with a sweet tenderness that touched Carol deeply. She caught a brief glance of her son, his skin dark purple with shiny red patches, before Bob finally covered the wee face, and her heart crumbled into piercing, razor-sharp shards that threatened to shred her from inside. "I wish...Carol, I wish I had known it was twins," Bob stammered. "I would have had you on total bed rest. If we'd just had an ultrasound machine or something...anything..."

"Please don't," she begged, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook as she wept. "Don't. I can't think about that...I can't..."

Carol felt Daryl shift behind her and he gingerly placed their daughter in her arms before squirming out from beneath her and climbing out of the bed. He lowered her back against the pillows and thumbed the tears away from under her eyes, but his gaze was cold and remote. He stroked their daughter's hair and then turned to where Bob sat, holding the tightly swaddled bundle against his chest.

"Give me my son," Daryl said quietly, holding his arms out. His calm demeanour frightened Carol more than if he'd crumpled to the floor and wailed in grief. It was as if he'd retreated back into himself entirely, the same way he used to whenever something terrible had hurt him in the past. He was more distant from her in that moment than if he was a thousand miles away.

Bob wordlessly handed the child over. Tucking the baby in the crook of his elbow, Daryl carefully pulled back the corner of the towel and stared down at his little boy's face. He stood like that for a few minutes, with Carol's soft weeping the only sound breaking the weighty silence in the infirmary.

Without warning, he turned and stalked to the door, snatching his crossbow from where he'd discarded it so carelessly and tugging the strap up over his broad shoulder. "Daryl!" Carol cried, sitting all the way up and clutching their whimpering daughter to her breast. "Where are you going?"

He staggered to a stop and shook his head, never turning to look at her. "I'm taking care of him. Someone has to...we're all infected, _remember_? I'm his father; it's my job. It's all I'll ever be able to do for him."

With that, he disappeared around the corner, and Carol shook from the force of her anguish, tilting her head back and giving voice to everything she'd lost as her daughter shrilly echoed her cries.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you for the overwhelming, emotional reviews to the last chapter. I am truly humbled at the response, especially given the difficult subject matter. I hope this chapter is a bit easier on the heart, although there are still a few tragic loose ends of which I must take care before we can move on._

_**Jennifer Melton**__, I am sorry for breaking your heart. I promise to make it up to you soon!_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_Nineteen years earlier, the day after Carol gave birth_

Carol had insisted on being brought back to the suite she shared with Daryl, unable to stay in the infirmary a moment longer than necessary. Her grief had left her feeling torn apart and raw, but she tried to force the trauma back far enough that she was capable of caring for her newborn daughter. At her request, Sasha had asked Tyreese to keep watch outside the door and turn away anyone coming to offer comfort or kindness. It was more than she would have been able to bear, especially when the pain of her loss was compounded with worry over Daryl. It was late in the afternoon and no one seemed to have any idea of where he'd gone.

She'd just stretched out on her side, the baby tucked against her breast and feeding sleepily, when the door to their room creaked open and Daryl stumbled in the door, mumbling something to Ty she couldn't quite overhear before he closed it behind him. He stood in the shadows for a few minutes, his head bowed and his shoulders rounded under the weight of his despair.

When he shuffled over to the bed and dropped to his knees, Carol reached for his hand but he jerked it back before she could close her fingers around his, shaking his head. It was then she noticed that his hands were covered in clay, the reddish-grey colour hauntingly familiar. "Where were you?" she whispered, her voice raspy from hours of crying.

"Found me a quiet spot outside the gates at first. Just sat and held our son under the stars while I waited..." his voice broke, but he cleared his throat and continued. "I knew he couldn't hear me but I talked to him for a bit, just in case there was some part of him still here."

If there had been any piece of her heart that hadn't already been shattered, Daryl's broken admission would have finished the job. Her eyes, already sore and swollen, swam with tears again. "What did you say to him?"

Daryl rested his cheek against the mattress, gazing intently at their perfect, beautiful daughter as she nursed. "That I wished I coulda done somethin' to protect him, that I woulda traded my life for his in a heartbeat. Said that I loved him...that _we_ would love him forever."

"Oh, Daryl..." she sobbed, wanting to take him in her arms and try to mend the gaping hole she knew he could feel in the centre of his chest. While she had witnessed him mourn Sophia in his own way, it was nothing compared to what he was going through now. Only a parent who had lost a child could truly understand.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tears tracked down through the grime on his cheek. "I shouldn't have done it, but I waited...waited 'til he started to turn. I know it was wrong but fuck, Carol...I wanted to feel him move just once, same way you got to feel him move inside you all the time you were carrying him! But that was stupid, cuz it made it so much worse when I had to..."

As his words trailed away, Carol removed the protesting baby from her breast, wrapping the infant in a blanket and gently placing her in the wooden cradle Daryl had carved over the course of her pregnancy. Then she sank to the floor beside her love and hugged him tightly, gladly taking the burden of his weight when he finally broke down and all but collapsed against her. She remained silent as he wept and shook hard; there was nothing to be said that would make it any better for Daryl, or that would ease the unbearable anguish for either of them. Some things were simply too far beyond words.

They clung to one another for a while as misery washed over them, and Carol tried to give him whatever meagre strength she had left. After a time his crying ceased and he drew away, sitting back on his haunches. His face was drawn in sorrow as he stared down at the filth that still coated his hands and clothes. "After...after he was gone, I didn't want to bury him all alone – I couldn't stand the thought of that, him so little and no one with him. What if we hafta move on, how could we leave him behind like that? Finally decided to take him back the prison and put him to rest with Merle. At least then he'll always be with his family..."

Carol trembled with emotion as she finally realized that what Daryl had on his hands was dirt from their baby boy's grave. The depth of his love and courage was staggering; she hadn't even been able to make herself watch as they'd interred Sophia, never mind digging her final resting place herself or lowering her thin, ravaged body down into the cold confines of the earth. Carol ached with regret that she hadn't been with him; it was unthinkable he should have had to face alone. "You went back there by yourself?"

He huffed ruefully. "Was gonna, but Michonne stopped me when I went to grab the keys for the pick-up. She didn't say nothin' about the baby, just took the keys from my hand and asked where we was goin'. Drove all the way to the prison and stayed close by, but she never told me it was gonna be okay or said shit to try and make me feel better. Guess she knows what it's all about herself."

Carol nodded. Michonne had lost her young son as well. There wouldn't have been anyone else who would have instinctively known what Daryl needed in that moment, and Carol was infinitely grateful that the woman had stepped up to keep Daryl safe when he certainly wouldn't have been capable of doing that for himself.

"Carol, I...I named him before I buried him. I know I had no right to go decidin' somethin' like that on my own, but I couldn't leave him there without one." Daryl admitted helplessly, reluctantly lifting his eyes to meet hers. "I'm sorry."

She clutched his face between her hands and gave him a sad smile, touching her forehead to his. "You're his father, Daryl – no one had more right than you. I'm so glad that you did; he deserves to be remembered properly. Tell me, please."

He shrugged, looking almost sheepish despite his distress. "You're going to think it's dumb, but I named him Orion."

Carol's breath hitched as she heard the name, instantly understanding his choice. What better namesake for Daryl's son than Greek mythology's legendary hunter? "No. It's not dumb. It's perfect."

"Could see Orion in the stars from where we was sittin'", Daryl explained. "My mom used go out at night with me sometimes before she got too heavily into the booze, and we'd lay on a blanket while she pointed out the constellations and told me stories about them. She said Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, placed Orion in the heavens as a tribute after he died so he'd never be forgotten. Before I buried him, I told _our_ Orion that them same stars were his now, and that so long as we could look up and see them, we'd never forget _him_."

Carol pulled him close again, overwhelmed and touched by what he'd done. So many people underestimated Daryl, never having any sense of how deeply sensitive he was. And those who didn't really know him often mistook his quick temper for a lack of intelligence. She hadn't been so easy to fool, though. There was so much more to him than most realized, and she fell more in love with him as each new facet of his character was revealed.

Their surviving baby gave a loud, indignant cry, doubtlessly upset that she had been put to bed before she'd had her fill of milk. Her parents both turned their heads to gaze down at her, seeing that her little fists were flailing angrily, and her face was contorted and growing redder as she got more worked up. Daryl untangled himself from Carol's embrace and reached for their daughter but stopped short when he saw his hands and arms again. "I can't hold her, not like this," he muttered, looking at himself with disgust.

"Just wait," Carol said, struggling to stand. Daryl jumped up and slowly helped her get to her feet again, and then she reached for one of the recently laundered sheets she had on hand. She draped it over Daryl's outstretched arms and upper body before bending to retrieve the baby from the bassinette. Cuddling the infant closely for a few seconds, she inhaled the sweet newborn scent from the downy tufts of her hair before handing the child over to her father.

The second she was settled against his chest, the baby ceased crying altogether, instead staring blearily up at Daryl. Her tiny limbs relaxed and she gave a soft sigh that tore at Carol's heart. Daryl swallowed hard as he took in every feature of his daughter's face, doubtlessly seeking some resemblance between her and her twin brother. As he stared, he began to rock instinctively from side to side in an unconscious attempt to soothe her despite the fact that she was already calm.

"She knows it's you," Carol whispered, pressing her hand to her chest at the incredible poignancy of the moment. "She recognizes you from when you held her yesterday. She loves you, Daddy."

Daryl's eyes were still rimmed in red, but there was a spark of warmth there for his daughter that shone through the sadness. "Is that right, sweetheart? You remember me? I'm sorry I left you and Mama alone, but I'm back now. I'm not going anywhere again. It's going to be okay, I promise. We'll be okay."

It was going to take some time, Carol knew, but he was right. She would hold Orion in her heart forever, deep in that same secret place where Sophia's memories endured. The pain wouldn't go away, but it would grow slightly duller over time. There would be healing that would come in the form of love, for one another and for their child. There would be sad days for sure, but there would be happy days too.

They _would_ be okay. They had to be.

* * *

_Present day_

Cherie sat in stunned silence but her eyes betrayed her shock and hurt, glistening as they were with unshed tears for a brother she'd never even known existed. Carol gave her daughter's hand a comforting squeeze and then moved away from her and went to stand by the window. A part of her was relieved that Cherie finally knew the truth, but she was also afraid that by talking about it, all the pain that she'd worked so long and hard to suppress would rise to the surface again and devastate her all over again.

As the years had passed, she and Daryl talked about their loss less and less, but through the months that Orion the Hunter was visible in the night sky, the two of them would venture outside hand in hand and stare up at the heavens. It was a deeply personal ritual and their friends never intruded on their grief. Of course, everyone had enough of their own pain to deal with to concern themselves about how Carol and Daryl were handling theirs.

"Mama, I'm sorry," Cherie finally whispered. "I can't even imagine."

"Do you want to know how we made it through those early days?" Carol said, running her fingertips along the window sill, her voice quavering slightly. "It was _you_, Cherokee Rose. Just like the legend of the flower you were named for, you were born on our own trail of tears and you gave us new hope. Having you brought such amazing joy into our lives, filled our days with giggles and hugs and love. And that's especially true for your daddy; you have an incredibly special bond with him, always have. But losing your brother like we did boomeranged back on you, I'm afraid, and keeping us safe became Daddy's number one priority. Now that you're an adult, it feels to you like he's trying to control you, trying to force you to his will...but it all springs from love and a fear that if he's not vigilant, he could lose you too."

"But Jason doesn't want to hurt me. He loves me," Cherie said, and Carol turned to see that same secretive smile she used to wear when she and Daryl had spent time alone. Okay, _did_ wear, if she was being truthful with herself. The man still caused her heart to race with desire whenever their eyes met, regardless of the passage of years.

"It has nothing to do with Jason or even what you were doing, although I don't think any father wants to walk in on his daughter in the middle of...whatever you two were actually up to. But there's no one else he trusts to protect you the way that he can, no one else as aware of the dangers we deal with every day as he is." Carol turned and sat on the ledge, sighing heavily. "There would be no man good enough for you, Cherie, as far as Daddy's concerned. It's not losing you to Jason he's worried about, it's losing you for _good_ that drives him to behave the way he does."

Her daughter snorted indignantly. "I've been taught to look after myself since I could hold a knife and aim a gun, as you well know. Hell, you're the one who trained me! I don't need _anyone_ to keep me safe, least of all Jason. I'm a fuckin' Dixon, for Chrissakes! And I love Daddy for caring like he does, but even understanding the why of how he feels doesn't change the facts. I can't be a prisoner to his fear, Mama. I'll always be as careful as he's taught me to be, but I'm not going to put my whole life on hold. He has to know that."

Carol smiled softly and shook her head. "He doesn't yet, but he will. I'll talk to him first, but you and he are going to have your own conversation about all this sooner than later. Just promise me that you'll take it easy on his heart. He might come off like some ass-kicking 'hillbilly', as you so indelicately put it, but he's not half as tough as all that when it comes to people he loves."

Cherie cringed to have her words fed back to her. "I promise." She rose off the bed and threw her arms around Carol's neck, hugging her the same way she used to when she had been just a little girl and prone to impromptu displays of affection. "I love you, Mama. I'm going to go check on Jason but I'll be back in a few hours to have that talk with Daddy. Okay?"

"Love you too, kiddo," Carol said, pulling back and smoothing her daughter's sandy blonde hair back from her face. "Off you go. I'll make sure he understands. Or if not understands, at least swears not to try and kill your boyfriend again."


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you to everyone who took time to read the last instalment - your kind comments and reviews were gratefully received._

_This chapter is considerably lighter in tone. I almost hesitate to post it this weekend (July 26-27) because there is a lot of anger/dissent/disillusionment within the fandom and over the Caryl 'ship in particular. For what it's worth, I don't pay much attention to interviews and hype pre-season - it's meant to create buzz and keep people talking - and I don't think TPTB at TWD necessarily do what they do with their fans' best interests at heart. But until the next season airs and my faith in Caryl is proved or disproved, one way or the other, I will continue to hope. I believe that in the end, true love will win out. If they go another way...well, this story will have ended long before they'd have shattered my heart, and it will stand as a testament to the story that SHOULD have been told._

_Done my rant, hope those of you who choose to continue sailing the 'ship like it!_

* * *

**Chapter 5**

When Carol finally made her way down to the kitchen, she found Daryl sitting at the table, slumped dejectedly in his chair with only a shot glass and a half-full bottle of rye whiskey for company. It was rare to see Daryl drink; he'd sometimes have a glass of wine if the occasion called for a celebratory toast, but the only time he hit the hard stuff was when he was nursing a wounded heart.

He didn't even look up as Carol walked in and grabbed a shot glass of her own from the cupboard. She bent over to kiss the crown of his head and reaching over his shoulder, grabbed the bottle by its neck. "Come outside with me," she murmured softly. "We'll share a drink and enjoy a quiet afternoon, just you and me."

"Where's Cherie at?" Daryl grunted, shoving his chair back and grudgingly following her out the back door.

Carol reached behind her and took him by the hand. "I left her up in her room," she said cryptically, knowing that if she told him that their daughter was leaving shortly to try and smooth things over with Jason, Daryl would still be upset enough that he would be fast on Cherie's trail. Besides which, it was _technically_ true – Cherie _was_ still in her room when Carol had come downstairs.

Stepping into the sunshine, Carol closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Their garden was filled with brightly coloured flowers and shady trees, an oasis protected on all sides by a ten-foot, reinforced cement block wall that not only offered protection from the undead and possible intruders, but also afforded them a measure of privacy that Carol found she desperately needed from time to time. Living in what amounted to a commune was the safest possible option, but being around the same people day in and day out could prove wearing at times.

She led Daryl towards the large magnolia tree in the corner, its pale pink blooms fragrant in the heat. Pulling him down beside her, she sat cross-legged on the lawn and poured herself a shot of whiskey. The branches above them swayed slightly in the breeze and sunlight formed dappled patterns on the grass around them, providing a beautiful, calm setting. Giving Daryl a side glance, Carol reached over and clinked their little glasses together before tossing back her shot of the dry, spicy alcohol.

Like his daughter, Daryl would resist talking if he was pushed, so Carol bided her time by staring up through the canopy of leaves to catch a glimpse of the clear blue sky above. Louisiana really was lovely, she reflected, if one discounted the occasional hurricane that blew through St. Gabriel and battered their little town. Sitting here with her man, it was almost possible to pretend that there had been no walker scourge at all. Almost. The cache of weapons spilling out of the garden shed, along with the glinting pieces of broken glass and the razor wire atop the wall, more or less ruined the illusion.

"Knew I shouldn't have let that that little shit come sniffin' 'round here in the first place," Daryl finally muttered, reaching for the whiskey and refilling his glass. He held it up, waiting to see if she wanted another shot, but she shook her head and waved him off.

"Daryl, you've known Jason since birth. And the two of them have been friends since the very beginning," she replied evenly. "I can't see how you could possibly be surprised that their closeness led to something more. They're both adults now, it's only natural…"

"The fuck it is!" Daryl snarled, slamming back his shot and grimacing at the taste. "She ain't like that, not our girl. He must have pressured her or somethin'. Remember what his dad was like back at the farm? Glenn was randy as a goat, couldn't keep his hands to hisself..."

"Honestly," Carol chided, rolling her eyes. "Are we talking about the same daughter? Because I think the first guy who tried to pressure Cherokee Rose into _anything_ would end up icing his bruised testicles even while he picked his teeth up off the ground. She's your daughter through and through, and more than capable of asserting herself. Whatever is going on between her and Jason is very much mutual. I know it upsets you to think of them together..."

"ARGH! Stop!" Daryl pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I don't GOTTA think of them together; saw it all in glorious Technicolour, thank you very much! The goddamned image is burned on the back of my eyeballs!"

Carol had to bite her lip hard to keep from laughing, which would have just been more fuel on the fire. "It was inevitable. And if you could take a step back and look at all of this from a distance, you'd be able to admit that Jason is a pretty decent guy, just like his dad. Isn't it better that she ends up with someone we know we can trust to treat her with kindness and respect than with some random stranger who comes passing through?"

"NO!" he barked at her, springing to his feet and beginning to pace back and forth in front of her. "It ain't better! She don't need Jason – she don't need anyone! Lettin' her go down this road is just askin' for trouble!"

She gasped at his ferocity. "Jason loves her and she loves him. Don't you want her to be happy?"

"I want her to be SAFE! I don't give a fuck if she's happy or not!" Daryl bellowed, clenching his hands until his knuckles turned white.

Standing up, Carol grabbed hold of his biceps so he had to look her in the face. He was so tightly wound that as soon as she touched him, his muscles twitched and flexed. "Listen to yourself," she said, soothingly caressing his arms. "You're upset, I get that. You're worried about her getting hurt – I understand that, too. But what kind of life will she have if we just lock her away from the world?"

He stared at her beseechingly, and she could see that the pain reached all the way to his soul as he spoke. "Jason ain't like us, Carol. He ain't tough enough to protect her if somethin' goes wrong. Glenn wasn't able to keep Maggie alive; how can you ask me to trust Cherie with his son?"

"That's not fair," whispered Carol, letting her hands drop away and taking a step back, shocked that he'd even gone there. "What happened to Maggie wasn't Glenn's fault."

Maggie and Glenn had been heading the convoy as they'd taken the long trek from Georgia to Louisiana. They'd come under fire from another group intent on seizing their vehicles, food and medical supplies, and a grenade had exploded on the passenger side of the truck Glenn was driving. Maggie had been killed instantly, the shrapnel shredding most of the left side of her body. Although Rick, Daryl and Abraham had been able to kill their attackers before anyone else had been seriously injured, the damage had been done. Carol could still see Glenn kneeling on the road and clutching Maggie's body, his clothes soaked in his wife's blood as he begged and pleaded with her to wake up, to come back to him. Mercifully, Jason had been riding with Tara and Rosita near the rear of the convoy and the then-four year old hadn't witnessed either his mother's death or the heart-wrenching aftermath.

Daryl ran his hand back through his hair and sighed heavily, the anger seemingly draining out of him. "Yeah, I know. It coulda just as easily been us in that first vehicle. I'm sorry – it was a shitty thing to say. But what if when something else like that happens, Cherie's not with us but with _him_ instead? If I can't keep watch over her..."

"Stop," she said, cradling his stubbly jaw in her palms. "You're right; Jason isn't like us, but Cherie _is_. She could bring down a buck at a hundred yards by the time she was ten years old. She was a crack shot with a pistol and an expert with a knife before she turned twelve. You name the weapon, you name the situation, and she's tackled it all with the same kind of courage her daddy has shown every day of his life. Do you know what she told me when we were upstairs? She said, and I quote, 'I'm a fuckin' Dixon, for Chrissakes!' You can worry about her if you want, and I'm sure you will, but our daughter is more capable of looking after herself than almost anyone else in our group. You _know_ that."

"It ain't getting any better out there," he persisted. "The herds are getting more aggressive, looking for fresh meat. She's still young; one mistake could cost her – could cost _us_ – everything."

"But you have to trust that we raised her right, Daryl. And you have to let her find her own path. She loves Jason, you know. _Really_ loves him. It easy to see it in the way she smiles when she says his name, how she lights up when she thinks about being with him. I can't believe I didn't notice it sooner."

He seemed dubious. "It's that serious? She's not even twenty yet, seems pretty young to know if you actually love someone."

"I don't doubt the sincerity of her feelings – our kids have pretty much been adults since they hit their teens. They weren't allowed to be children for very long." she sighed regretfully, relieved that his fury had ebbed.

Daryl took her hands and pressed them against his chest. "I ain't got nothin' against Jason, but there's no way I'm ready for any of this," he grumbled morosely.

"No father ever could be," Carol said with patient understanding. She smiled softly at him. "You know, it doesn't seem so long ago that the sparks started flying between you and me. We were just like them once. Or do you even remember feeling like that after all this time?"

His eyes glinted with mischief at her gentle teasing. "What d'ya mean, _after all this time_?" he chuffed, catching her by the waist and pulling her in close. "You sayin' I'm _old_, woman?"

"Well," she sighed with mock disappointment, drawing his pony tail over his shoulder and letting the obvious streaks of platinum slip through her fingers, "we _are_ both on the wrong side of sixty now. One can only expect so much from a man after a certain age."

He arched his eyebrow at her. "S'that right?" Without warning, he bent over and swept her up off her feet. She let out a startled squeal of surprise and instinctively threw her arms around his neck when he pretended he was about to drop her. Chuckling, he went down on his knee and gently lowered her back onto the lush lawn, stretching out beside her as he did so.

Twenty five years had passed since they'd first met, but Carol's heart still gave a little jump as Daryl's mouth came down on hers. His lips lightly brushed hers once and then again, his breath faintly scented with warm whiskey and his whiskers tickling at her chin. She shivered when he eventually drew back, and he gave her a shy smile as he pushed her hair back from her temple.

"Maybe we ain't as young as when we used to be," he said, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers as he gazed adoringly into her eyes. "But I don't gotta try and remember how it feels to love someone like you say Cherie loves Jason. I've _never _stopped feeling that way…"

"Neither have I," Carol replied, the simple heartfelt words catching slightly in her throat. She clasped the back of his head and brought him down for another kiss, this one decidedly more demanding than the first. A soft rumble came from deep in his chest as she nipped at his top lip and then licked her way into his mouth.

The taste of him flowed over her tongue, richer and far more intoxicating than any liquor she'd ever tasted. She bloomed like a flower whenever they kissed – heart, body and soul. With Daryl, she could be her true self. Although desire faded between some couples as they grew comfortable and complacent over time, their reality was far different. They'd shared the best and worst moments of their lives in the most horrific of all possible circumstances, and it only served to build a more profound love and a persistently powerful attraction between them.

Daryl angled himself over her, crushing the fragrant grass beneath her with his weight and pinning her to the ground as the intensity of their kiss grew. "Do you remember our first time?" he whispered hoarsely, snagging her wrists and trapping her hands above her head. "Do you remember how incredibly fuckin' _hot_ that was?"

Just like that, they were as desperate for one another as they'd been in that distant moment. The drawn out slow build up between them had smouldered month after month, year after year, and when the passion had finally ignited that day, Carol knew without a doubt that it would burn as long and hot as an eternal flame.

He claimed her mouth again before she could answer, and she let him take what he wanted, moaning helplessly as excitement surged through her body and left her trembling with need. She wriggled beneath him until her thighs were bracketing his hips and she could feel his thick erection straining against the layers of material that separated them. "What I remember," she gasped when he finally gave her a chance to draw a breath, "was that you had most of my clothes torn off before we'd even found a place where we could be alone."

The naughty grin he gave her made her tingle from her stiff, tender nipples all the way down to her throbbing core. "I don't remember you putting up much of a fight," he murmured, keeping her wrists shackled with one hand while he used the other to unbutton her blouse. He peeled her shirt open and slid his hand underneath the silky cup of her bra, roughly fondling her bare breast with his calloused palm.

"I thought I'd lost my chance when I saw the prison fall and you disappeared. I promised myself if I found you again, I wasn't going to wait any longer," she groaned, arching up into his grasp. "I was ten seconds away from shoving you up against a wall, tugging down your pants and taking you right there in front of the entire group."

He leaned in and put his mouth against her ear, his breath making her shudder. Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted as he bit gently at the smooth skin of her neck. "I never wanted anyone like I want you. Time ain't changed that – all you gotta do is touch me once and I'm hard as stone."

"Enough talk," she whimpered, her entire body aching and bereft from longing. She yanked her hands free and bucked her hips hard, catching him by unaware. Taking advantage of the element of surprise, she shoved him off of her, rolling over and mounting him before he had a chance to recover. Carol sat proudly astride his thighs, her chest heaving as she slowly shucked her blouse and unhooked her bra. Daryl's nostrils flared as if he'd caught the scent of her arousal and his hands clenched as he watched her, transfixed as her breasts swayed gently with each deep breath she took. Although neither of them had escaped the effects of age entirely, she was still mostly sleek muscle and creamy skin, and he all but consumed her with his gaze of stark desire.

She could feel his cock kick against his fly from where she sat and gave him a sly smile. "See something you want?" she asked as she shifted her hips from side to side, swatting his hands away playfully before she got to her feet again. Staring down at him, Carol leisurely kicked off her shoes and wriggled out of the rest of her clothes, unabashedly baring herself to the only man she'd ever really loved.

Daryl swallowed hard but then a wicked smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Come gimme some sugar, Sugar," he growled, running his tongue sensuously along his bottom lip as his eyes dropped to the sprinkle of snowy white hair at the juncture of her thighs. His subtle demand made the heat swirl and pool low in her body.

The term of endearment that he used for her was something of a private joke between them. The first time he'd ever gone down on her, he'd told her that she was as pink as spun sugar and tasted twice as good. Although he mostly called her 'Sugar' when they were alone, he'd sometimes drop it when they were around other people as a discreet signal that his thoughts had turned carnal in nature.

There were times that Carol was convinced he used the nickname in public when they weren't in a position to do anything about it and wouldn't be for a while just so he could watch her get hot and flustered. The drawn out anticipation, the knowledge that he was staring at her and imagining what they would be doing made her all that more responsive when they were finally together. The guy could do more to her with a single word and a lustful look than any other man she'd ever known. For someone whose sexual repertoire had been pretty limited when they first hooked up, Daryl Dixon was no slouch when it came to artful seduction.

Carol expertly positioned herself over top of him so that her legs were spread wide and her feet planted firmly on either side of his arms. She slowly lowered herself until her knees framed Daryl's head and her glistening slit was mere inches away from his ready mouth. He closed his eyes as he bent his head slightly forward and cradling her buttocks in his hands, he brought her in close so he could sample her unique flavour.

"So sweet," he moaned, caressing her slit ever so lightly with the tip of his tongue. Her body clenched and jerked as he leisurely explored her cleft, tracing each delicate, swollen fold with such thoroughness that she lost her patience and with a snarl, plowed her hands through his hair and thrust her hips forward in order to spur him on.

His eyes sparked in amusement and he let his head fall back onto the grass, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. "Want it bad, do you?" he rasped, licking her musky essence from his lips. His breath a cool contrast against the wet heat of her flesh and a shiver worked its way through her, head to toe, as he exhaled.

"You know I do," she sighed shakily, her excitement causing her body to grow even wetter, ready for what he had to give her.

Shouldering her thighs even further apart, he exposed her more fully to him. "Stay with me, babe – I'll get you there," he promised before her buried his face between her legs again. He rocked her against him, urging her forward with his hands and stroking her clit with his hot, raspy tongue in a relentlessly erotic rhythm. When he suddenly sucked the hard, pulsing little nub into his mouth and gently grazed it with his teeth, she ground against him and cried out, helpless to stop herself. Tension coiled tightly at her core and she teetered on the edge, so close...

She hadn't noticed that he'd slipped his hand in between them but when he drew back and she surged forward, he filled her with his long, probing fingers and brushed against the achingly sensitive spot deep inside her. The orgasm burst from within like a bird taking flight, so overwhelming and liberating that she was pretty much robbed of the ability to breathe. Her whole body felt like molten cream and she nearly collapsed as Daryl soothed away the last flutters of her release with gentle licks and kisses, stealing the last of the nectar from the still engorged lips of her pussy.

He caught her in his arms and rolled her over onto the cool balm of the grass and fallen blossoms. She felt like a languorous puddle as she stared up at him, his lips still slick from her juices. "I love that I can do that to you," he confessed huskily, his voice tight with strain. As thrilling as it was for her when he took her in this way, she was well are that it always left him rigid, thick and swollen to his very limits.

"Let me return the favour," she purred, meeting him in another hungry kiss as she reached for his belt. His fingers snapped tightly around her wrist, though, stopping her before she could even begin to work the buckle loose.

"I'm too far gone for that," he groaned, rearing up on his knees beside her and tugging his belt open himself. He whipped down his fly and shoved his pants down just past his hips, his cock springing free and jutting upward in readiness. New wetness trickled from between Carol's legs and she moaned eagerly. As much as she wanted to prolong the pleasure for both of them, sometimes the need between them was too great and primal instincts simply took over. It was going to be wild and uncontrolled, and today she didn't want it any other way.

"Take off your shirt at least, please," she begged, spreading her legs shamelessly and fingering her curls. "I have to feel your skin against mine. And untie your hair."

He hastily did as she asked, all but tearing off his t-shirt and ripping out the band that held his hair back. Two decades had flown by but Daryl was as magnificently built as ever, all solid planes and firm curves. Carol sighed appreciatively as she stared up at him, admiring the way his sleek, greying strands of his hair draped over his broad shoulders and curled around his pecs invitingly. He was undeniably beautiful as far as Carol was concerned – a study in pure masculinity and unrestrained sexuality she found impossible to resist.

Without any further pretense, he fell on her like a wolf on its prey, forcing her legs further apart as he pressed into her, long and hot and hard. Her breath left her lungs sharply, the sensation of him filling her so completely one to which she'd never totally become accustomed regardless of how often it happened. With a sweet stinging that only added to her arousal, her passage stretched to accommodate his girth. She tilted back her head, blindly searching for his face with her hands and pulling his lips down to meet hers once more as he began to move inside her.

Daryl withdrew slowly and then plunged roughly into her once more, kissing her desperately as though it was their first time all over again. Her sheath rippled around him, grasping and pulling him further into her body with every jarring thrust. Carol curled her hands around his ass cheeks and squeezed, his firm flexing muscles barely giving way beneath her fingers.

As his surging penetrations increased in power and tempo, he dropped his head against the crook of her neck and his breath broke hot against her shoulder, low impassioned grunts escaping his throat with each thrust. Carol held on tight, arching beneath him so that they were linked more fully. His hair fell like a veil on either side of her face, blocking out their surroundings and making the world all about them for whatever short time they managed to steal away for themselves.

Almost without warning, her climax hit her hard and she cried out as she shattered instantly, feeling as though she had come apart entirely. Daryl was only seconds behind her, his hips pounding into her furiously and then freezing as he locked up and shouted loudly, a sound that seemed halfway between tortured agony and soul-defining ecstasy. When she felt his member buck hard within her channel, the spasms set off another orgasm and she shuddered weakly against him again, her strength totally spent.

Carol panted hard in the aftermath, and the fact that Daryl was laying sprawled over her doing the same made it tough to catch her breath. She wrapped her arms around him, though, not letting him move away. She loved him this way so much – relaxed, happy and sated, and all because of what they'd shared. She combed her fingers through the damp strands of his hair and smiled contentedly to herself.

"You're gonna have a hell of a time after this, y'know," Daryl drawled against her neck, leisurely licking away the perspiration that had pooled in the hollow of her throat.

Her brow knitted in confusion and she frowned, her hand pausing against the back of his head. "What are you talking about?"

Daryl lifted his chin and grinned impishly. "S'gonna take you a week to get those grass stains off your butt, I think. Don't even know if soap will get rid of them. Hope Cherie don't see 'em; that'd take a real creative explanation."

Just then, the back door slammed open and Daryl pushed himself off of her, trying to yank up his pants and hide Carol with his own body at the same time. "Daddy! Are you out here? Jason and I were talking, and I have something...to...OH MY GOD! What are two you doing?! Holy fuck! Out here?! Don't you have any decency?"

Carol scrambled backwards behind what meagre cover the magnolia tree offered while Daryl stared back at Cherie, who in turn gaped at them both in horrified silence. The irony of the situation was too much for Carol, though, and she giggled quietly as she attempted to retrieve her clothes by reaching for them with her toes. "I don't believe I'm going to have to explain anything about grass stains," she whispered to her mate. "All this pretty much speaks for itself, don't you think?"

Much to her surprise, Daryl gave a low chuckle and glanced over at her, smiling sheepishly as he kicked her panties close enough that she could bend over and grab them without being seen. "I'd say turnabout is fair play," he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth as the door slammed shut and Cherie retreated back into the safety of the house.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you to everyone who left reviews and who is still following this little story - your feedback means the world. Daryl and Carol are taking this story in an interesting direction; I hope you agree and enjoy this latest instalment!_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The release of tension that their 'splendour in the grass' interlude had provided was short lived. Carol stood behind the couch as Daryl perched on the edge of the cushions, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed menacingly at his daughter.

"You want to _what?_" Daryl ground out from behind gritted teeth. Carol tried to settle a calming hand on his shoulder but he roughly shrugged it off.

"We...ah...we want to get married," Cherie replied quizzically, confused at her father's continued hostility. "Jason and I want to show you that we aren't taking any of this lightly, especially after what you...er...saw earlier today. I thought you'd be happy..."

"_Happy_?" Daryl spat, getting to his feet and pacing the room. "Is this about gettin' out from under my roof and bein' able to do the horizontal mambo any time the feelin' strikes you? Cuz you sure as fuck don't need a ring for that!"

Cherie jumped up off her chair. "No! It's about starting my own life with someone I love deeply! " she hollered back, her own feisty temper rising quickly. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Daddy!"

Her father pointed his finger at his daughter. "It's hormones an' nothin' more between you an' this Rhee kid. And maybe I can't stop you from seein' him but I sure as hell ain't gonna have you marrying him!"

Carol stepped around the couch and took up a position in between them. "Daryl, we talked about this. You can't undermine her feelings like that. And she has to be able to make her own choices..."

"You don't understand anything!" Cherie yelled, pushing past her mother to glare directly up into her father's face, her own small hands balled into trembling fists. "We want to be married because we love one another! This isn't some stupid teenage crush, and it's not just about sex – it's _love_. I want to get married; I want it to be REAL! "

"You're all fired up on havin' some kind of official fairytale ceremony to prove somethin' – to us, to everyone else, but mostly to yourselves," he replied with a derisive sneer. "A wedding don't make nothin' 'real,' Cherie. It either is or it ain't. Your mom an' me, that's as real as it gets and we never got married."

Cherie crossed her arms across her chest and regarded him coolly. "Yeah, I know. But Jason and I want to do it _right_."

"What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?" Daryl barked back, his chest puffing up indignantly.

Carol tried again to intervene, alarmed at how Daryl's nostrils were flaring in anger and the way the vein in his forehead had started to pulse. "Both of you – please. This isn't solving anything."

Her daughter continued on as if Carol hadn't even spoken. "Jason's mom and dad were married, and it's important to him that we are, too. Maybe you didn't care about that, Daddy, but we want to make a commitment in front of all the people who are important to us. I want to share his name and build a life together. I want to give our kids the security of knowing their parents took those sacred vows..."

Daryl blanched and took an unsteady step backwards. "_Kids?_ You can't be serious! Do you see anyone else with kids around here? Matter of fact, is there _anyone_ younger than you in this whole town? That's ain't cuz there hasn't been babies born since your Mama gave birth – it's cuz their parents couldn't keep their children safe, let alone themselves, once they had 'em. You and Jason need to have your fuckin' heads examined if that's your grand plan. This ain't no kind of world to even think of bringing up a family and to believe otherwise is just plain stupid!"

"Didn't stop you and Mama, did it?!" shrieked Cherie. "You knocked her up long after you knew what you were dealing with..."

"Well, I sure as hell didn't do it on PURPOSE!" Daryl bellowed.

Cherie gasped sharply and Daryl's expression was immediately remorseful as he comprehended how incredibly hurtful his response had been. "Kiddo, I'm sorry..." He reached for Cherie but she quickly drew away, and the pain on their daughter's face echoed all the way to Carol's very soul.

"So if you'd had your way, I'd never have been born?" Cherie said in a small voice, her pale blue eyes brimming with tears. She seemed so much like a wounded child again in that moment that a nearly unbearable ache took residence in Carol's heart. This wasn't something that a hug and a kiss were going to solve, though. "Are you saying you didn't want me?"

"It wasn't like that..." Daryl protested helplessly, looking to Carol as though she had some magical way of undoing the anguish he'd thoughtlessly caused.

Carol glowered at him and took their distraught daughter by her hands, guiding her back to her chair and pressing on her shoulders until she again took her seat. Crouching in front of her, Carol smiled gently at Cherie and kissed her fingertips.

"Sweetheart," she said quietly. "You weren't planned, that's true. But it was more a case of us not knowing how _much_ we wanted you until I actually got pregnant. The second I told Daddy that I was expecting, we both knew in our hearts that it was meant to be. You were born from love and there is _no_ part of either of us that regrets having you."

"But if Jason and I can't have that same thing that you two shared, what's the point of going on?" Cherie replied, profound sadness clear in each word she spoke. "You guys and Uncle Glenn fought to keep me and Jason safe from harm all these years, but for what? If there's no future for us beyond just surviving day to day, then our lives are meaningless."

Daryl dropped back down onto the couch, his head in his hands. "You don't know what it's like to be a parent. You got this romantic idea 'cuz you're in love, but you don't really understand," he mumbled forlornly. "There's been lots of times when I've been afraid in my life – for your mom, for myself and the other people I come to care about. But it was nothin' like the fear I felt – I _feel_ – every goddamn day when it comes to you, Cherokee Rose. Every sound in the night, every shadow in the woods, every stranger who shows up at the gate is a possible threat to our lives. You mean the world to me and I wouldn't change the fact that we had you for nothin'. But I ain't gonna lie to you neither. Losing a child's about the worst thing that can happen to anyone and it would kill me to watch you have to go through that yourself."

Carol blinked back the tears that shimmered in her eyes. While Cherie knew from their earlier discussion what was behind Daryl's overly protective nature, it was clear from her stunned expression that her father's agonized admission had touched their daughter far more profoundly. Cherie rose from her chair and went to kneel on the floor beside her father, resting her head in his lap like she used to do when she was a toddler. Daryl softly stroked her hair, running his fingers through the long wavy locks like he'd done years ago when he was telling her a bedtime story or soothing some childish upset.

"I can't promise that nothing bad will ever happen to me, Daddy – and despite all that you do to protect me and Mama and everyone else, neither can you. Nothing is going to change out there – there will always be walkers and other dangers. But that just means we have to take our happiness whenever we can find it, don't you think?" She lifted her head so she could look him in the eye, then reached up and gently thumbed away the few tears that betrayed Daryl's attempts at control and trickled down his rough cheeks.

"Are you sure?" Daryl rasped, searching Cherie's face for any sign of doubt. "That Jason is the one, I mean. You're positive that being with him – having a family and all that – is what's gonna make you happy? Even knowing that none of it's gonna come easy?"

Cherie smiled and blushed, looking radiant despite her swollen eyes and tear-stained face. "He makes my heart feel full whenever we're together. When he looks at me, there are butterflies in my stomach. And when I think of my future, I can't imagine it without him. Whatever life has in store for us, good or bad, I need him to be part of it."

As she finished speaking, Daryl gazed unwaveringly at Carol and shrugged in weary resignation. It was clear in that instant that while Daryl might never have said those exact words to the woman he loved, he recognized the underlying emotion well enough to know his daughter believed wholeheartedly that what she had with Jason was _real_. Every bit as real as what Carol and Daryl had shared over the past twenty-some years.

Daryl cleared his throat and swept his loose hair back out of his face. "Well, if you're past any sort of common sense, I suppose there ain't anythin' I can do to talk you out of all this," he grumbled, trying to seem stoic but failing miserably. "Tell ya what – before Glenn an' Maggie got married, Glenn had to go and ask her daddy's blessin'. You say you wanna do this thing right, then I figure Jason had best come see me and pay me the same courtesy."

Cherie's eyes lit with ecstatic delight for a moment before dimming with caution. "If I bring him back here," she said hesitantly, getting to her feet and glancing between both of her parents, "are you actually going to listen to him or are you just going to try to hit him again?"

"You're sayin' them two things are mutually exclusive?" Daryl teased, a half-hearted grin tugging at the side of his mouth.

"Daddy!" Cherie frowned, looking to her mother for support. She wasn't entirely sure whether her father was honestly accepting something that had caused him such obvious angst, but Carol knew surrender when she saw it. It had cost him to give in but she knew in the end, Daryl couldn't deny his daughter the hope of a brighter future, however faint that hope sometimes seemed.

"He'll behave himself, I promise," Carol said with a soft smile. "Bring Jason back to the house – and Glenn, too, if he feels up to the walk. Maybe with his dad here as back-up, it'll even out the odds a bit."

Cherie squealed with happiness and threw her arms around her mother's neck. "Thank you! Thank you both! I'm just...I can't even...thank you!"

Carol hugged her tightly as she was flooded with the same mixed emotions that vexed Daryl. It was hard to let go but their daughter deserved every chance to find her own way. They'd done their jobs as parents, and would continue to provide whatever help and guidance they could, but they had to step out of the way and let Jason and Cherie make their own choices.

Cherie took a few steps towards the door and Daryl stood up suddenly, looking awkward and indecisive. Carol knew he was torn between the paternal instinct to drag his child back and keep her safe from harm, and the desire to see her pursue her dreams. Cherie put her hand on the doorknob and glanced over her shoulder at her father, then turned back and rushed into his arms.

Daryl caught her and lifted her up until her toes were dangling above the floor. He clutched her more tightly that was probably comfortable for his daughter, but she didn't protest. Carol saw him swallow back his worry and grief, and knew he felt as though a big piece of his heart was preparing to walk out the front door.

"You're not losing me," Cherie whispered against her father's shoulder. "It's not as though we're going to be moving to another town or anything, Daddy. We'll always be close by, and you'll see just as much of me as you ever did, I swear."

Daryl took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. "Just remember to knock first. With you outta the house, your mom an' me will be doin' it in whatever room strikes our fancy at the time. Would hate to have you walk in on anything that'd scar you for life."

Carol burst into laughter, ineffectually trying to muffle the sound with her hand. Cherie squirmed out of her father's grasp and punched him hard in the arm. "Daddy! Oh my God!" Her face burned bright red but she smiled sheepishly anyway. "I'm going to go get Jason – try to keep your pants on for the next ten or fifteen minutes, okay? Wait, scratch that. Let's make it for a couple of hours at least. We should be done talking with Jason and Uncle Glenn by then."

"Better hurry," Daryl said as he watched her make her way back to the door. When she lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at her father, he chuckled softly. "Your mother's awful sexy, not sure how long I can hold out."

Cherie rolled her eyes and slammed the door behind her. Once the sound of her footsteps grew fainter and then disappeared as she ran down the sidewalk, the grin on Daryl's face faded and he fell heavily onto the couch under the weight of his concern.

Carol joined him, snuggling up against his side and laying her hand lightly on his thigh. There really wasn't anything left to say, and feeding him platitudes that they both knew contained more comfort than truth wouldn't give him any peace. She nuzzled her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart thudding strongly beneath, and he lazily tangled his fingers in the soft spikes of her hair.

After a long silence, Daryl sighed despondently. "Well, fuck. What the hell have I done?"

Carol slipped her hand around his waist. "Holding onto her would have only driven her further away. I know how hard all this has been for you but it was the right decision."

"_How_ do you know?" he asked solemnly. "How can you be so sure, so calm about all this when it's tearing me to pieces?"

"Because I remember what it was like to be her. The only difference was I wasn't trying to run towards love; I only eloped with Ed because he was a way out from under my father's strict control. I thought at the time that I was teaching my dad a lesson; little did I know I was trading in his attempt to keep me safe for a situation that was anything but."

"Did he know? Your dad – did he have any idea what was happening to you? I would've lost my mind and killed him, wouldn't hesitate for a minute if it was Cherie being hurt," Daryl growled.

Carol's throat ached from the pain the memories stoked. "No, I never told him or my mom. I was embarrassed, ashamed that I had made such an awful choice for the dumbest of reasons. Even if I'd eventually wanted to make amends, Ed basically forced me to cut all ties with my friends and family. I didn't even find out my dad had died until long after the funeral."

"Jason's not like that," Daryl said with quiet confidence. "He'd never purposely hurt Cherie. He was raised better than that. He's one of the good guys."

"He is," she agreed. "Just like you, babe. You gave her a gift today by trusting her judgement and respecting her feelings. She may not be our baby girl anymore, but she'll stay close to you _because_ you were willing to let her go."

Daryl's only response was to nestle his cheek against the top of her head and heave another sigh. It would be a long time until Daryl had completely reconciled himself to the fact that very soon, he'd become the second most important man in Cherie's life, but Carol would be there to get him through the worst of it.

* * *

Only ten or so minutes later, Carol heard the familiar sound of someone approaching the house at a run. From the way his body tensed beneath hers, she knew Daryl had heard it too. "She's back already – but I can only hear her," Daryl commented, untangling himself from Carol's embrace to peer out the front window. "Carol, something's wrong...she looks scared!"

Carol sprang to her feet and yanked open the front door, her eyes expertly scanning the surrounding area for signs of the undead. As Cherie scrambled up the stairs to the porch and burst past her mother into the living room, Carol spotted Glenn making his way down the sidewalk towards them, leaning hard on a cane and moving as quickly as his damaged leg could take him. So far as she could tell, there was no one and nothing in pursuit, but she retrieved the handgun from the coat closet and stepped out onto the porch just in case there was a fight coming.

Daryl was trying to calm Cherie down, but she was too short of breath to get much sense out of her. Glenn finally limped up the last few yards to their house, his face contorted in pain, and Carol ran down to meet him and help him into the house. Months earlier, Glenn had stumbled into a black bear trap left to rust under layers of rotten leaves on the forest floor and while Bob had been able to save his leg, Glenn was going to be largely out of commission for quite a while. Following after Cherie as he had definitely wouldn't have helped matters, but it certainly drove home the seriousness of the situation that he'd done so.

"Jason!" Cherie finally managed to gasp out once Carol had closed and bolted the door behind them. "He's...Daddy, he's gone!"

"Gone?" Daryl turned to Glenn, who'd collapsed onto the nearest chair and was clutching his shin in agony. "What's she talking about?"

Glenn sucked in a bracing breath and met Daryl's penetrating gaze. "Him and Cherie...they came and told me they wanted to get married, but they were worried about...well, _you_, Daryl. After Cherie left for home to try and talk some sense into you, Jason got real thoughtful and quiet. Next thing I know, he's pulling on a flak jacket, lacing up his boots and loading enough ammunition into a backpack to take out a small army. He stopped long enough to let me know that he wanted to be sure you knew he was serious about how he felt, and he was going to show you by 'doing everything the right way, just like me and Maggie.' Before I could get any more out of him, he took off. Saw him headed northwest towards Highway 30."

"On his own?" Daryl said incredulously, meeting his mate's eyes from where she stood behind Glenn. Their shared look of disbelief said it all: no one, not even Daryl, went anywhere alone anymore. The threat of walkers aside, the countryside was hunting territory for scattered, desperate groups of people who would resort to just about anything for food, water...or worse, information about where those things might be found. Jason's decision not only put his own life in jeopardy but under torture, maybe everyone else's in St. Gabriel too.

Glenn glared at Daryl. "You humiliated him today at Town Hall, knocked his dick in the dirt in front of the woman he loves. Now he feels he has to prove himself to you and Cherie both, even if it means risking his life to do it."

"Daryl, get our weapons and ammunition," Carol said brusquely, pulling her backpack from the coat closet. "Cherie, I'm going to need a set of the basic first aid supplies from our closet upstairs. I'll get the water and rations from the pantry. Go! He already has a head start on us and we're going to be moving more slowly since we have to track him."

With one last contrite glance at his friend, Daryl made his way out through the back yard to their makeshift armory. Cherie dashed up the stairs and Carol could hear her rooting around in the closet for bandages, iodine and what few antibiotics they had on hand following Glenn's injury. In the kitchen, Carol filled several plastic bottles with potable water, threw a handful of freeze-dried food packets in a side pocket, and met Cherie at the bottom of the stairs.

Her daughter's hands were shaking slightly as she handed the medical supplies over to her mother, but her expression was one of steely resolve. "I'm coming too," she quietly announced to Carol. "If I was in trouble, he'd come for me."

"Out of the fuckin' question," Daryl snarled at her as he strode past the women, stuffing his own backpack with shells for Carol's gun and tucking a knife into the sheath on his belt. "That's all we need, to be lookin' after you too!"

Before Cherie could get her ire up, Carol clamped her hand tightly on her daughter's wrist. "He's right. If Daddy has to be worried about you, he's not going to be focused on looking for signs of Jason. Besides, the two of us always hunt better on our own; you know that's true." She grasped Cherie by the shoulders and fixed her with her intense, no-nonsense gaze. "We're going to find him and we're going to bring him home. But you have to promise not to follow us. _Say it_."

Cherie's eyes watered with angry tears. "I promise, okay?" she conceded grudgingly, crossing her arms tightly in front of her.

Carol stared at her daughter, testing the honesty of her answer, before nodding. "I trust you to keep your word, just like you're trusting us to keep ours and have your fiancé home to you safely. After we go, I need you to make Uncle Glenn comfortable, then go and get Uncle Bob and tell him to come take a look at that leg. There might be a shot of morphine left that'll ease the pain."

Daryl hoisted the straps of his pack over his shoulders, loaded on his crossbow and adjusted the load so that it was spread evenly across his back. He smoothed his long hair back and tied it with an elastic band so it would stay out of his eyes in the field. "Let's go already," he growled impatiently. "Losin' daylight, standin' around and chattin'."

Loading her pistol, Carol slipped it into its holster and then sheathed her own hunting knife on the opposite side. She pulled the straps of her kit over her shoulder and gave Cherie a quick hug. "Don't worry if we aren't back by dark; it might take us a couple of hours to catch up to him. Stay here with Glenn, keep the doors locked and a weapon at the ready."

Cherie suddenly looked uncertain and frightened. "Mama...you and Daddy be careful, okay?"

"We always are, sweetheart," Carol said reassuringly. She stepped past Daryl onto the porch, but paused as she heard Glenn call Daryl's name.

"Dixon? Don't you come back without my son," Glenn said, his dark almond eyes glistening but his mouth set in a ruthless, unforgiving line.

"Count on it," Daryl replied with calm determination before closing the door behind them and following Carol down the steps.

The two of them walked quickly as they could without running, their strides purposeful and perfectly in sync. When they turned the corner that would take them out of town and towards Highway 30, Daryl glanced at Carol. "You know where he's goin', don't ya?"

Carol shrugged but then nodded. "He wants to do it right, wants to do things the way Glenn did with Maggie. I think he's on his way to Baton Rouge to find a ring so that their engagement is official. Let's just hope we find him in time to talk some sense into his head, or Cherie's going to be a widowed before she's even a bride."


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you to everyone who has patiently awaited an update to this story - it took me some time and some discussions with my muse to figure out where I was taking the plot! Hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! You're all amazing and I'm so grateful for you!_

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Carol and Daryl moved quickly and quietly, with Daryl focusing on the signs Jason had inadvertently left behind and Carol watching his back with her pistol drawn, keenly aware of their surroundings. Had the circumstances been different, she might have enjoyed a brief foray into the woods with her mate, Carol reflected as she watched Daryl stalk through the trees. He was so much more in his element in the wilderness than he ever could be in town, and she always found herself captivated by the powerful flex of his muscles, the edgy predatory tension in his shoulders and the intensity of his sweeping gaze. It was like watching a mountain lion on the prowl and God knew that even when one took his age into account, Daryl remained every bit as lethal as one of the big cats when the situation called for it.

They'd been walking for about three hours before the sun dropped too far to be of any use. The forest was more shadow than light by the time Daryl picked up Jason's trail, making the job of tracking and retrieving Jason all that much riskier. It wasn't that walkers were more active at night – quite the opposite, in fact. The cooler temperatures and the lack of light by which to hunt seemed to lull them into a more dormant state. But it was more difficult to detect and react to a threat when it was dark, and the hungry dead weren't the only danger they were intent on avoiding.

"Jason's probably still an hour ahead of us," Daryl said, coming to a gradual halt. "If he's got any brains at all, he'll find a place to lay low until sunrise. I think we'd better do the same – we can pick up the trail again at first light and hopefully catch up to him before he hits Baton Rouge city limits. Once he's on concrete, it'll be impossible to know where he's gone."

Carol had no choice but to reluctantly agree. It was going to be a long, worrisome night for Glenn and Cherie, but to continue trying to track by moonlight would be incredibly foolish. "I spotted a hunting blind up in the trees about ten minutes ago. We can go back and spend the night there."

Daryl nodded and Carol led the way. Although a roof over their heads would have been preferable – and there were quite a few buildings along the highway parallel to the trail they followed – being inside also increased the risk of getting inadvertently trapped. The platform was probably only wide enough for the two of them to stretch out, but it would put them out of easy reach of any walkers, would disguise their location from casual observers, and would give them a tactical advantage should a confrontation occur.

When they reached the hickories in which the blind had been constructed, Daryl gave a grunt of approval and clenching his knife in his mouth, crept up the primitive rungs that had been screwed haphazardly to one of the tree trunks. "All clear," he called down to Carol, and she passed him his pack and crossbow before climbing up to join him.

As Carol shook out their sleeping bag on the thick wooden planks, Daryl kept careful watch to make sure that there were no immediate threats in the area before they called it a night. She hung their packs at the base of a thick, broken limb and grabbed water and rations for an impromptu supper. "Dinner under the stars," she said quietly, sitting with her legs crossed and holding out Daryl's share to him. "You sure know how to show a lady a good time."

Daryl snorted his amusement and sat down beside her, his back to one of the tree trunks. "Guess romance ain't dead after all, huh?"

They sat in silence for a while, finishing off their food and listening to the night sounds that surrounded them. There was the occasional distant hiss or howl of the walkers that seemed to carry through the air, but the noises were far away enough that neither of them worried over it.

"If you look at it objectively, what Jason's doing is really kind of sweet," Carol said, taking the wrappers from their food and securing them in a plastic bag so the scent was contained.

Daryl raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Sweet? Are you crazy? It's a stupid-ass move which just proves my earlier point – the boy don't got what it takes to get by on his own, never mind keeping Cherie safe."

"He got this far – there haven't been any signs that would point to him running into trouble," she replied, unbuckling her boots and setting them aside.

She got up on her knees and unbuttoned her trousers, slipping them over her hips and tugging them off her legs before she folded them into a neat square. It didn't escape her notice that Daryl was watching her casual strip tease intently and she smiled to herself. Seduction wasn't what she had planned; shared body warmth would be what got them through the night comfortably, and they had to be skin-to-skin for that to work properly. But sometimes there were unexpected benefits to the survival skills Daryl had worked so hard to teach her. "Why didn't he just give her Maggie's ring? Why go through all this?" Daryl said distractedly, his eyes dropping to Carol's bared midriff as she peeled her shirt off.

Carol paused before rolling her shirt up to use as a pillow. "Maybe it's too painful a reminder of Maggie's death. Or maybe Jason didn't think much of how his dad obtained the ring in the first place and wanted to be sure that he got one for Cherie that would only ever be hers."

Daryl frowned in confusion. "Whadya mean? Where'd Glenn get Maggie's ring?"

Carol looked at him in surprise before it occurred to her that while Glenn was working his courage up for a proposal, Daryl had been trying to find Merle to stop him from turning Michonne over to the Governor. "Well..." Carol said, trying to suppress the memory of Daryl's overwhelming grief from that day, "I saw him go shopping on 'Walker Row,' if you get my meaning. What he was doing at the fence didn't really sink in until Maggie showed us the ring a few days later."

His lip curled with disgust. "Geez, that's classy. An engagement ring hacked off a dead woman's finger. Don't get why he felt like he needed to do that anyhow, or why Cherie and Jason figure they gotta go through all this crap either. Just be together. Why can't that be enough?"

Carol knelt in front of Daryl and shoved his jacket off his shoulders, settin it aside before she started working on the buttons on his shirt. "There was a time," she reminded him gently, "that getting married was something you thought you wanted, too."

"Yeah, well...you set me straight on that idea pretty quick, didn't ya?" he answered, and there was a hard edge in his voice that took her aback. He smoothly shrugged her off, leaving her with her hands hanging in mid-air as he turned to work the laces loose on his boots.

Daryl had asked her to marry him when he found out she was pregnant but she'd turned him down. She thought he'd understood her reasoning but clearly some residual hurt over her decision had resurfaced in the wake of Cherie's announcement. "You said it yourself today, Daryl, that having a wedding doesn't make things 'real.' I for one never needed a ring or a ceremony to prove that we belonged together."

"Cherie told us her an' Jason wanted to do it 'right,' he muttered irritably. "The way she said it, it made me feel like in the end, that we didn't..."

"Or that _I_ didn't, you mean," Carol sighed. How strange that two decades had passed by and she had been completely oblivious to the fact that he'd taken her refusal to get married as a rejection of him rather than of the idea itself – and worse, that he'd carried that wound with him all this time. "I'm the one who said 'no.'"

Toeing off his boots and shoving them aside, he grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it over his head, buttons straining as he pulled at the fabric. "Don't hardly matter now, does it? You were right. We never got married and it worked out just fine. Better than fine."

"But...?" she prompted, knowing there was more that needed saying. If he tamped it down, his resentment would fester and the inevitable confrontation would that much uglier as a result.

"But if it's just some words and a ring, like you said – why not do it anyway when I asked? I saw what my dad did to my mom – his wife – every day 'til she died. But what they had – what you and that fuckin' Ed Peletier had – ain't the same thing as what _we_ got. Did ya figure I was gonna get a ring on my finger and all of a sudden start punchin' on you like Ed did?" He whipped down his fly and yanked at his pants, every sharp movement a testament to his long-suppressed anger.

Carol's mouth dropped open, she was so stunned. "No! Of course not!"

"But you turned me down all the same," he went on, a tick in his jaw betraying his distress. "I never gave ya cause but I still paid the price for what that goddamn prick did to ya. It's like he's still castin' that shadow over our life. Fer fuck sake, ya still call yerself 'Peletier' if someone asks! Yer not even mine in name."

Her heart sank at the pain in his voice. "I wanted everything to be different with you. He had ruined the whole concept of marriage for me – there was no love, no honour in the life I had with Ed despite the vows he took. Maybe I didn't stand up at the alter with you and recite some verse, Daryl, but the bond we share is so much stronger than anything I ever felt with him. I'm sorry I couldn't see past my bad experience to understand how important it was to you that we have a wedding, though, when I got pregnant."

Daryl slid in between the layers of their sleeping bag, naked except for his underwear, and rested his head on the crook of his elbow. He gazed unhappily up at her, the glow of the rising moon making his irises seem even bluer than usual. "I didn't ask ya to be ma wife 'cuz you were gonna have a baby – _babies,_" he corrected, the flash of anguish on his face a tender acknowledgement of their loss. "Woulda done it anyway. It wasn't about doin' the right thing; it was about wantin' to make something that felt so right last forever."

It was only through fierce determination that she didn't weep at his tortured words. Carol peeled back the edge of the sleeping bag and slipped in beside him, reaching behind her to zip the both of them into their cozy shared cocoon. "I kept the 'Peletier' not because of Ed, but because of Sophia. Not sharing that name with her, even if she's gone, seemed like a betrayal of her memory," she whispered, turning to face him. She rested her hand against Daryl's cheek and caressed the hard ridge of the bone there with the pad of her thumb, staring deep into his wounded eyes. "But in every way that counted, I've been a Dixon since the very first time we kissed. You stole my heart away back at Hershel's farm and I've never looked back nor had cause to regret a moment."

His eyes fluttered closed and he shook his head. "I'm sorry. In my head, I know that it shouldn't matter like it does. Been more than twenty years and I know damn well how ya feel. But in my heart..."

"Look at me," she said firmly, waiting until he complied. She cradled his face in her hands and smiled, willing him to feel the joy he brought her every day. "Forgive me for making a mistake that hurt you so much. I can't go back and change how I acted then, but I can do this: Daryl Dixon, under this crystal-clear night sky and the gleaming stars that shine down upon us, I take you to be my husband. I swear that you and you alone shall have my everlasting love and devotion, and that I will always offer you the comfort of my arms and my body. I take your name as a sign of my commitment, proof to you that we are bound together for so long as we both draw breath. Maybe even after that – I don't think it would be heaven unless you were there with me, too."

"Carol..." he murmured hoarsely, tipping his forehead against hers and clasping her hands. "I love you so fuckin' much..."

She blinked rapidly and tried to rein in her emotions, determined to hold it together until their impromptu ceremony had concluded. As tough as Daryl liked to seem, there were times when that sad, vulnerable boy who only wanted to love and be loved in return peeked out from his hiding place, and it almost broke her heart when she could see the legacy of what had been done to him so clearly. "Do you still want me to be your wife?" she asked gently, feeling the soft bursts of his breath against her lips and desperately wanting to kiss him but needing the time to be exactly right.

"Yes...I mean, yeah, I do..." he managed to stammer out, tears trickling from the corner of his eyes and over her fingers. "Missus Dixon..."

She laughed from utter happiness then, even if it came out sounding like she was crying. "Well, then – by the strength of the love in our hearts and under the starry witnesses above, our son included, I now pronounce us husband and wife."

Her arms snaked up around his neck, and his skin felt incredibly warm in contrast to the swiftly cooling air. His mouth descended on hers automatically as she was leaning in for her own kiss, their love so in tune after two decades that they knew exactly where to find one another's lips. Daryl swallowed her soft moan as he grabbed her and pulled her close enough that she could feel the wild beating of his heart against her breast.

Her hands roamed over his bare chest, grazing his hard flexing pecs and coasting down the smooth plane of his stomach. Carol's belly tightened at the feel of his fingers, rough and calloused, against the soft flesh of her ass. The sound of his panting breath met her ears as she reached down and tugged on his boxers, her legs tangling with his even as she growled impatiently and yanked at his waistband.

"A little eager, are we?" he breathed unevenly, his fingers nimbly flicking open the hooks on her bra so he could work his hands beneath the satiny cups to pluck at her stiff, achy nipples.

Moisture rushed between her legs and dampened her panties, her pulse pounding through her body. "The marriage doesn't count until we consummate the relationship," she gasped, arching into his grasp and shivering in excitement.

Daryl made a rough sound and tore her underwear from her hips, using his toes to push what was left of the garment off her legs and deep into the far reaches of the bedroll. Before he could take advantage of her nudity, however, she speared her hand down between his legs and gripped him, flexing her fingers around his thick length. Carol smoothed the bead of moisture that emerged from his tip over his hot, plump head, and his needful groan further fuelled the heat swirling low in her body.

She pulled him free of his underwear and he thrust into her palm, gasping sharply as she stroked him with certain knowledge of what made him crazy. He locked one muscled arm around her waist and dragged her closer, his hips flexing as her hand slid up and down his quivering shaft.

"How can you be this hard for me so quickly?" she sighed with tremulous wonder, loving the small, harsh noises he made as he pressed himself against her with increasing desperation.

"Open yourself," he pleaded, hauling her thigh up over his and nudging at her entrance, his cock branding her delicate folds with searing, rolling heat. "I need you now, Sugar. Don't keep me waitin', I have to be in you."

She spread her legs and he pressed hard, sinking himself into her channel. Both of them moaned at the inevitable, indescribable sense of completion that accompanied the exquisite sensation, and Carol could have sworn she saw a prism's worth of rainbows burst behind her eyelids. Her ache grew and expanded as he moved within her, and she whimpered from the bottomless depth of her desire for her man. Daryl had been right to seek more from her than she'd given him, because it had _never_ felt this good before, not even that first time when they were so blindly desperate for one another that she thought she'd die from sheer pleasure.

His thrusts grew harder, faster, fiercer. Carol tilted her hips as much as the tight confines of the sleeping bag would allow, clenching her muscles around his throbbing, sliding heat and trying to draw him as far into her body as she could get him. His fingers dug into the globes of her buttocks and he held her firmly in place as his movements grew more frenzied.

Their mouths meshed and their tongues twirled, their breath ragged as the tension built, her breasts crushed almost ruthlessly against him as he claimed her for his own, leaving no doubt either physically or emotionally that she belonged to him in every way that mattered.

All at once, Daryl's touch gentled and he slowed down, tracing the curve of her collarbone, the slope of her shoulders and the swell of her breasts with his lips as he languidly guided in and out of her. A low, keening cry rose from her throat as he kissed the hollow of her throat and took a breast into his hand, kneading it and testing its fullness. He rolled on top of her and continued to stroke her passion slowly, staring into her eyes even as his languid pace made her nearly frantic with need.

"You're mine, Carol," he groaned, swivelling his hips and hitting a spot so extraordinarily sensitive that her eyes all but rolled back in her head. White hot desire shot through her and she arched beneath him, wanting him with an intensity that was shocking considering how many times they'd been together.

"I always have been!" she cried softly, clutching his face and drawing him down for another kiss as her body rippled around him, desperation simmering despite his attempts to draw the pleasure out for both of them. "Daryl, please...!"

"Cum for me, Sugar," he rasped, suddenly pounding into her again and forcing himself deeper with each startling plunge, jarring her senses and body both with his fervour. "Wanna feel you squeezin' yourself around me. Give it to me...do it now!"

Carol forced herself to relax against the rhythm of each plunge, surrendering as the pressure increased, grew beneath his relentless assault. She bit back her scream of rapture as her muscles seized and her womb contracted, soaring over the precipice. Shudders wracked her body and she arched beneath Daryl, smiling triumphantly as she felt him release himself inside of her, bucking as he filled her with his essence.

His hot, hard length was still deep inside of her when he collapsed against her, panting against her shoulder. It was a crushing, delicious weight that made her feel protected and cherished. God, but she loved him! Unable to speak past the overwhelming emotions that surged from her heart, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. There was nothing that would ever come between them, she knew that now. He finally understood the depth and breadth of her commitment. Daryl Dixon, her love. Her _husband_.


End file.
